to the suns beyond the sea ~ 6 months in Europe

Letting Go

Okay. Where to start. I realize it’s been a while since I last wrote, a long while, and it definitely feels longer than it actually was, likely because this was the first (and longest) break I’ve taken from blogging. I had a total of one post for November. One! For October, I had ten. I think December will be better. Though I’m also quite busy these upcoming weekends, December is a more promising month because there are more things that excite me and inspire me. Winter[1],all the awesome things you can do with snow (sledding, snowmen, snowball fights, ski….), Christmas, winter break, and New Years Eve! Woop woop! And referring back to an earlier post, the ‘coziness of winter’ pretty much urges you to curl up in your blankets, hot mug of tea on hand, and write. So we’ll see how December will go for me.

It’s been two and a half months since I left! Maybe a bit more. And in that time, I’ve thought of my friends more times than I can count. Memory after memory came sprawling into my mind at uncalled for moments, catching me off guard, making me analyze things and see more than I did before. Analyze situations, friendships, personalities, emotions, all that good stuff! But also appreciate my friends back home a lot more, and really miss their presence, comments, humour, smiles, etc. Maybe that’s why when people leave, they often move back. It’s really hard to abandon your former life, with your mind almost carelessly dropping a boatful of memories at every opportunity. You see things in your memories and feel things you didn’t before. All these strings tying and pulling us back to home. Letting go of those attachments is hard.

I’m not saying I want to let go, in fact; I’ve always been more of the person that holds on tighter to those connections. I keep in touch with people like no one else I’ve ever met. When I was still living in Terrace, and over the years as friends moved away, I emailed, I phoned people on their birthdays, I wrote letters. I did this since the time I was eight, when one of my best friends moved away, another best friend a year later[2], and when I met another best friend at summer camp. And when people came back to visit, whether it was a year later, or five, they often told me I was one of the few that put in an effort.

Yes, keeping in touch is really difficult, especially if you’re the one that left. Balancing your old connections and new ones was never easy. But when people put in that effort, it is really appreciated. And I know that more so now.

I won’t lie. I am a little disappointed with some of my friends, some of my closest friends, that have barely put in an effort. I don’t mean to demote them from their good-friend-status, but there’s a little bit more distance now, when we talk, when we write, and rarely that is. It’s an awkward thing between the two of us, that elephant in the room. We throw excuses of our new busy lives, of parties, work, exams, all that, lest we acknowledge it. With our excuses, we try to justify the fact that someone just wasn’t putting in the effort.

And I imagine myself going back, and hanging out with those people. With some people, that friendship will just fall back into place like I never left. Some people are people better experienced in person—long-distance communication really isn’t there thing. And I can differentiate those people from those that are communicators, so to speak. But with some people, there will be a new distance[3]. The lack of effort during my time away will show. And I just worry, will that distance slip between us and never leave.

Another thing I experienced to do with friends, memories, and missing people, is I caught myself missing moments shared with one of my (at-the-time) best friends, Jenny. I have some of the fondest of memories with this girl, to be topped by none. When we were friends, we connected on a completely different level, this understanding I’ve never had with another friend before. We were very different but balanced each other out perfectly, in a way. We just fit together, that’s honestly what it felt like.

At first, I thought I missed her. But what I came to realize is, I didn’t really miss her. I missed the person she used to be. Not her, but her old self. The one I was best friends with. Maybe it was over the summer, or maybe the roots can be traced back to the end of highschool, but things just weren’t fitting the same anymore. Where we used to comfort each other, we aggravated each other. Where honesty used to be the highway of our friendship, lies ran it over. We got into little fights that wouldn’t resolve themselves, like they used to. I felt the change in her, but couldn’t pinpoint what it was. And perhaps there was a little change in me too.

It’s weird when a friend changes, how we sometimes can move past it. How the change strengthens the friendship. It’s funny how with some people, one small change, whatever it is, can mean the difference of a friendship. And that’s what it was with her. It was sudden, and unexpected, and I still mourn the connection we had. But I am also aware that I have realized it, accepted it, and moved on. We are still friends, just not best friends. We know there’s a difference, and I think because we both acknowledged it, we both moved harmlessly on. There is no one clinging to what once was. [4] I will always look back with fondness on the friendship. When I’m fifty and see a photo of us together, it will be a smile-and-look-back moment.

Sure, part of me still wishes things can go back to the way they were, and maybe hope a little that they will. But I think the bigger part knows what’s passed is in the past. I’ve never really had troubles with moving on from a friendship before. I guess before it always felt natural. It was a gradual process, where as this one happened quickly.

As much as I hate to think it, part of me says this is only the beginning. Sure, over the next few years, all my friends will be hovering around Terrace. We’ll see each other in the summers, keep in touch, etcetera. But as time carries us further, we’re going to end up in different places, make new connections, that might gradually replace the old ones. Not all of them, but add another layer into the complicated mix of the old and new. We won’t be seeing each other semi-reguarly, kept up to date. And I’m afraid time will fly and that we won’t even notice how fast friendships are passing us by.

Where is the line? How much are we allowed to hold on, and how much should we let go? Some people can drop their former life and treat it as it never existed. Other clings hard to the old. But where is the balance?

[3] When we used to talk every day, and not need to be caught up, there will now be gaps. Oh, when did that happen? / How did I not hear about that? What do you mean you aren’t speaking to your dad anymore? –those kind of things.